


“That which is painful sharpens one's love.”

by sighingfawn



Series: more than my scars. [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M, Self-Harm, Slight Smut, not cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sighingfawn/pseuds/sighingfawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Juice was young he would read the dictionary to look up the words that his parents, peers and sometimes teachers used to call him. But that was a long time ago. He doesn't need the dictionary now, he knows the definitions, he knows that they should all be replaced with his name.<br/>When Chibs was young he didn't read much, especially not a dictionary, but he doesn't need to know definitions to see what Juice is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“That which is painful sharpens one's love.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever SOA fic and my first ever post to archive of our own!! comments/reviews would be super appreciated!!

He sits waiting for Chibs in the dark, the adrenaline he was running on disappeared with the sun leaving his previously alert body aching and cold. He knows when Chibs gets home there will be an argument that is slow and repetitive, that will make his perfect Chibbie cry and swear and one day, leave. There’s a creeping sadness in the house that has gotten worse over the past month, Juice know’s that it’s because of the dropping number on the scale. He thinks about putting something in the microwave and letting the smell pollute the air, making dirty dishes out of leftovers he thinks are still in the fridge and leaving them on the counter, thinks about crawling to the floor and doing sit-ups, but he doesn’t do any of those things.  
He’s just so tired.  
Juice, for the most part, truly believes that once he reaches his goal weight everything will fall into line, that all the sadness surrounding them will disappear along with the disgusting feeling that currently resides in his bones. But a small part of him knows that until he’s buried with his patches he will hate himself and burn everything around him. This small part also thinks he’s a fucking idiot, a lost child that needs to grow up and speak about the nasty thoughts in his head but that voice often gets drowned under all the other thoughts.  
Like now, when everything is so muddled the only thing he can do is dig his nails into the underside of his wrist, where his cuts are almost healed. There’s a moment when he pauses, knowing that if he keeps pressing hard enough his cuts will open again and Chibs might check and see that once again Juice has let him down. But that just makes him push harder. The pain of knowing that he will break Chibs’ heart just a little bit more makes his skin itch with need.  
It's a vicious, self-created cycle.  
His nails dig harder as the swell of thoughts peak, he’s a baby, an ugly fat stupid cry baby. A waste. A liar. A fake. Worthless. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Baby. Ugly. Stupid so so so so so stupid. STUPID. Waste. Unloved. Chibs is going to leave. Fat. Fat. Fat. 100 calories only. Too much. Too loud, too quiet, too smart, too dumb, always too something. Wrong. Never going to belong. Unreliable. Waste. Baby. Let down. Chibs is so beautiful. Only deserve pain. Fat. Fat. FAT FAT. FAT! Drowning. Don’t be a cry baby. Waste. Fat. Ugly. Undeserving. Fat. Fat. Fat. Baby. Fat.  
Chibs pulls Juice’s hands apart and then into his chest. The movements are slow and soft, like he’s trying to do them without Juice noticing.  
Juice wonders how much time passed.  
“How long were ye like tha’?” Chibs’ fingers run over the knuckles of Juice’s hands.  
“I’m just tired.” Juice flashes a smile and scrambles his fingers so they dip under the collar of Chibs’s shirt, so desperate to feel his skin.  
“Don’t start, have you eaten?”  
“Really Chibbie, I’m just tired.”  
He wants Chibs to drop it, to let him take off his shirt and make it up to him in the one way he knows he cant disappoint.  
“You’re bleeding.”  
Juice swears and pulls his hands away from Chibs, not wanting to stain him any more.  
“Talk to me lad.” He sighs.  
Juice swallows. “I need to get a bandage or something.” He smiles quickly and tries to stand up but Chibs moves first, holding a hand up to tell Juice to stay.  
They keep the bandages in a green first aid box in the kitchen drawer, its filled with bandages, antiseptic wipes, plasters and a box of Juice’s old antidepressants.  
Chibs comes back with the box and starts cleaning Juice’s wrist. Juice squirms under his touch, waiting for him to argue or cry or do something. This isn’t the script, the dance that they have carried out for the past two years, or longer if he counts before they started dating.  
“I’m sorry.” Juice tries to meet his eye but Chibs has his head bowed over his wrist. “Time just got away from me today, I had a really big breakfast and then when I came home I just forgot because I was so-”  
“STOP IT!” Chibs’ head snaps up but the soft grip on Juice’s arm doesn’t change. “You’re just lying. Y’know I hate it when ye’ lie.”  
“I’m not! I forgot!” Juice pleads.  
He lowers his head again, reaching for a clean wipe while still holding Juice’s wrist as if he’s afraid to let him go. “You need to stop lying Juicy. I can’t help unless ye’ tell me the truth.” Juice starts to cry.  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You should leave. You need to leave.” He knows that he’s babbling, that what he can hear himself saying isn’t only what he’s saying but he can’t stop.  
“You’re too kind for me Chibs, I keep hurting you and I hate it. I can't live like this.”  
“Then stop.” Chibs raises his wrist and kisses the bandage, a gesture that always breaks Juice’s heart because he knows it represents how much Chibs has given to him. “Juice, you need to let us in.”  
"I can't." He whispers.  
He moves to lean his head on Chibs's shoulder, his strong shoulder that can carry and save and anchor.  
Not weak and fat like yours, the voice snaps.  
"Not everybody," He says through tears. "Just you. They wouldn't understand. I don't understand."  
"You'll start trying?" Chibs is trying to keep the doubt and excitement out of his voice. Juice can tell he wants to believe him but they've had this conversation three times before and each time Juice has let him down. "What brought this on?"  
"It's not fair if you keep coming home to me like this. Or on the club."  
Chibs moves so he's hands are on either side of Juice's face and they're resting against each other. "It's not fair on yourself Juicy."  
"I know." Juice ducks his head to wipe at his damp face. "I'm such a baby." He chuckles despite meaning every word.  
"Aye kid." Chibs laughs and starts pressing soft kisses across his nose and cheeks. "You really mean it? It won't be like those other times?"  
He nods his head. "No more hurting you."  
"You'll try anythin'?"  
Juice nods again, his brain is so tired he can't keep up with Chibs' train of thought.  
"Even go back to hospital?" He can feel Juice tense.  
"You know what it did to me."  
"It could help this time now that y'want to get better." Chibs is pleading now, it gives Juice the upper hand.  
"I'm really tired Chibbie. Can we talk tomorrow?" Juice lilts his voice so it sounds promising, like he would give almost everything for Chibs if he could just sleep. And its true, but he will be dead before he goes back to that hospital and those rooms with the feeding tubes and all those people in his therapy who were half dead with empty eyes who had nothing to live for. He wasn't like them, he had the club and his bike and computers, and most importantly his beautiful Chibbie. That's why he needs to make him believe he's ready to change, that he's ready for recovery when there is no way in hell Juice is doing anything other than losing or maintaining weight.  
Chibs opens his mouth to reply but Juice interrupts him by telling him he has oil and stuff, meaning his blood, on his shirt and that he should really change, and here! let me help you out of that shirt.  
When Juice was young he would read the dictionary to look up the words that his parents, peers and sometimes teachers used to call him. But that was a long time ago. He doesn't need the dictionary now, he knows the definitions, he knows that they should all be replaced with his name.  
When Chibs was young he didn't read much, especially not a dictionary, but he doesn't need to know definitions to see what Juice is. And what he's doing but he decides as Juice is leading him to the bedroom that if he lets him carry on, just for one more night, everything will get better.  
But oh, how the worst is yet to come.


End file.
